The Sentence
by Red8436
Summary: After unexpectedly saving Hermione Granger's life during the Battle of Hogwarts, Antonin Dolohov uses the debt created by his actions to ensure he is not condemned to live out the rest of his life in Azkaban. However, the sentence he does receive is one that neither himself nor Hermione could have anticipated, and it is certainly one they're both exceedingly unhappy about.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter world.

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"Is this some kind of sick bloody joke?" Ron bellowed as Hermione sat, stunned, between her two best friends.

Harry gripped her arm tightly. "There has to be some sort of mistake," he said anxiously. "Kingsley you _cannot_ be serious!"

"Harry, I dislike this as much as you do," the Minister for Magic began to reply in a grave voice but the bespectacled wizard cut across him.

"You _don't_!" Harry insisted, "There's no way you could possibly feel as strongly as I do otherwise you wouldn't be letting this happen."

"Harry, this is one of the most sacred magical laws," Kingsley explained calmly, not letting a couple of upset teenagers crack his eternally cool demeanour. "The legal power that is evoked when saving another witch or wizard's life has been recognised since well before even the time of the founders of Hogwarts."

"There has to be some mistake," Harry repeated, shaking his head and chewing on his bottom lip. "It doesn't make any sense." It seemed to suddenly dawn on him that Hermione had said nothing since Kingsley's startling announcement and he gave her arm a little shake. "This is all wrong, isn't it, Hermione? Tell him it's not true," he urged. "It didn't happen, did it?"

"Of course it didn't!" Ron spat angrily. "That piece of shit is just making a desperate attempt to save his neck! What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him," Ron muttered darkly, glowering as he mimed strangling something or _someone_.

Hermione could feel Kingsley's gaze on her as she stared in disbelief at the luxurious carpet in his office.

"Miss Granger?" Kingsley prompted. " _Hermione_?"

Her body trembled as she tried to fight against saying the words that would certainly unleash some terrible, unknown fate. "It's true," she choked out quietly. "That's what happened; he's telling the truth."

There was a stunned silence from her friends, even more intense than the one that had followed Kingsley's initial announcement.

"No," Ron said shortly, "It doesn't make any sense! He must have confunded you, Hermione."

"Ron," she said softly, touched that he was so determined to protect her against whatever this could lead to that he would resort to ridiculous alternatives, instead of accepting the truth when she spoke it.

" _It doesn't make sense!_ " he insisted, his eyes imploring her to agree with him.

"I know, Ron," she replied, shaking her head, "but as crazy as it sounds, it _is_ what happened: Antonin Dolohov saved my life during the Battle of Hogwarts."

Harry pushed his glasses upwards and rubbed his eyes. "You're absolutely sure?" he asked, his voice slightly obscured by the hand that was trying to rub sense into his brain. "It couldn't be a misunderstanding?"

Hermione let out a humourless breath of laughter. "Believe me, Harry, I wish it was but the fact of the matter is that I would have died that night if it wasn't for Dolohov."

"This is _bullshit_ ," Ron cried incredulously, his feelings about the manner so strong that he was unable to prevent himself from using such profanities in front of the most powerful person in magical Britain. "It was a battle! People were saving each other's lives all over the place – hell, we even saved Malfoy's life a couple of times! You don't see _us_ lording it over his head and enacting some ancient law."

"With respect, Mr Weasley," Kingsley answered, his overly polite, clipped tones suggesting that the red-haired wizard remember his manners, " _You_ are not facing a life time sentence in Azkaban."

"Yeah, and that's because he's a fucking murderer!" Ron snarled, jumping to his feet.

Hermione let out a scandalised, ' _Ron!_ ' at the language, but the other occupants of the office didn't bat an eyelid.

"Dolohov killed Remus!" Harry joined in, also standing up. "It's his fault Teddy's got no father!"

"He's an evil bastard that should never see the light of day again!" Ron concluded vehemently.

"Ron, Harry, while all of that may be true," Kingsley said calmly, "that unfortunately doesn't change the validity of his claim and the laws with which our society is governed."

"Then the law should be changed," Harry muttered, sinking back into his chair.

"Maybe it should," Kingsley agreed, "Maybe this case will spark a review of the law but it _cannot_ just be dismissed at the drop of a wand because we do not like the person who is utilising the law properly."

"But – " Ron began but Kingsley cut across him.

"And certainly not by a new Minister for Magic who has only been in the job for a few weeks following a war that has affected the entire magical community," he said sternly.

Ron's shoulders slumped and he sat down, looking defeated.

"What," Hermione began, but she disliked how weak her voice sounded so she cleared her throat. "What will happen now?"

"There will be a hearing to decide Dolohov's fate," Kingsley informed her. "You will be called to give testimony."

Hermione wasn't happy to hear that but it was to be expected.

"What if," Harry began cautiously, shifting in his seat and raising a cautionary hand, "Hear me out," he said quickly as though prepared for objections, "What if Hermione refuses to attend?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, nodding slowly. "Or what if she goes but doesn't confirm his story – makes him out to be a liar? It's hardly the worst thing he'll ever be accused of."

Hermione and Kingsley exchanged exasperated looks at the young wizards' ill-conceived notions.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley," Kingsley said with an unamused smile, "I'm sure neither of you are seriously suggesting that this new and improved Ministry condone corruption? That Miss Granger take part in a deliberate act to pervert the course of justice?"

" _Justice_?" Harry scoffed. "How can a law that allows one of Voldemort's most infamous and devout followers to escape a lifetime in prison be _any_ kind of justice?"

"Magical law _must_ be upheld," Kingsley replied coolly. "That is the highest responsibility that comes with this Office."

"And what about keeping the people of Wizarding Britain safe?" Harry argued, "Where do _they_ rank on your list of priorities, Minister?"

"Harry," Hermione said with a warning tone. "Kingsley is right; we cannot take the law into our own hands."

"Hermione, that piece of shit tried to kill you a few years ago!" Ron pointed out passionately.

"You don't need to remind me," she replied pointedly, a flash of purple flames racing through her memories. She still bore faint scars from Dolohov's unknown curse on her torso.

"Then how can you be so calm about him using you to secure his release?" Harry asked incredulously. "To grant him the liberty he does not deserve; to allow Remus' killer to go unpunished?"

Hermione's stomach twisted in despair as she was plagued by more memories; this time of her former professor and friend lying lifeless on the floor, the body of his wife still and cold next to him; of their newborn son, Teddy, sleeping peacefully, without the slightest awareness of the parents he would never meet.

"It makes me want to be sick, Harry," she said truthfully, her voice trembling a little with emotion.

"Then why – " Harry began to ask.

" _Because he saved my life_ ," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hermione, one good deed doesn't erase a lifetime of bad ones," Ron said softly, reaching for her hand. She knew that he was trying to be comforting but, more than anything, she felt a little patronised.

"At no point during the hearing will that fact be forgotten," Kingsley reassured them all. "While Dolohov may be reprieved of a sentence in Azkaban, I am confident that he will not become a 'free' man. Safeguards will be put in place to ensure that he does not pose a threat to others. I will do everything I can to protect my people _within the law_ ," he vowed, with a pointed look at Harry in response to the way he'd challenged Kingsley earlier.

Hermione could tell that neither Ron nor Harry were happy (neither was she, really) but they had come to realise that arguing against both Kingsley and herself was pointless: they were always going to do what they thought was right, what they thought they must.

"When is the hearing?" Hermione asked.

"Tomorrow," Kingsley replied.

Hermione got to her feet, trying to project an image of strength that she didn't feel. "I'll be there."

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A/N Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Thank you SO much for however you've acknowledged this story: review, follow, favourite or even reading it! You are awesome.

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Hermione liked rules.

With clearly defined rules, there was no ambivalence; you knew exactly where you stood. She was infamous at Hogwarts for her memorisation of the school's rules, putting fellow students from higher years to shame with her knowledge – as well as some of the teachers.

But that didn't mean that her love of the rules had prevented her from breaking any of them. The rest of the student population may have perceived her reputation to be whiter than white for a few years but, if you scratched beneath the surface, you would find countless misdemeanours in her past. She blamed these all on her friendships with Harry and Ron, of course.

One would assume that her fondness of rules would translate to a love of the law but her recent experiences ensured that this was not the case. The law was a far more complex beast and the repercussions if it was mishandled were far more wide-reaching. You only had to look at the acts and decrees that were brought in under Voldemort's regime to see how devastating the law could be in the wrong hands.

And it wasn't just the recent (although, thankfully, now recanted) changes to the law that had their faults; this archaic life-debt law that Dolohov was intending to utilise was, quite frankly, ridiculous. The idea that a wizard who had committed multiple murders, frequently employed the dark arts and had been a key supporter of Voldemort could escape imprisonment on account of a single good deed was utterly preposterous! And yet, while she was always prepared to turn a blind eye to the school rules of Hogwarts when it suited her, Hermione was not willing to be so dismissive of magical law.

So, when she received the notification by owl that Dolohov's hearing would be held in Courtroom Three, on the twenty-ninth of August, at two o'clock in the afternoon, she had scowled deeply but obediently made her way there.

There had been a number of trials for former followers of Voldemort recently and Hermione had submitted evidence to a number of them, and the ones she didn't attend she would read about in the paper. As she stepped out of the lift on Level Nine to make her way down to the next level and the courtrooms within, she became aware that the number of people heading in a similar direction was significantly lower than in those other instances. In fact, she seemed to be the _only_ person heading to Dolohov's scheduled hearing – there weren't even any loathsome journalists or photographers lining the corridors, muttering quickly about the sort of story they'd be writing for tomorrow's paper and the type of shot they wanted to set up to catch potential readers' attention under the snappy headline.

With each step she took down the stairs to Level Ten, she became increasingly convinced of her belief that the Ministry were trying to keep Dolohov's hearing as quiet as possible. If so, that was certainly a smart move. Hermione could only imagine the magical community's outcry should it be discovered that someone like Dolohov would be spared a sentence in Azkaban. A not insignificant part of her was selfishly pleased for the secrecy surrounding the hearing because it might mean that her role in the proceedings would be concealed. The last thing she needed as she started to piece her life back together after the war was a barrage of negative press for simply telling the truth of events. She had no doubt that many witches and wizards wouldn't understand her willingness to testify in Dolohov's defence – even Harry and Ron were struggling with the idea – and she couldn't face the prospect of giving magical people a new reason to hate her. Currently, she was celebrated as a heroine of the Second Wizarding War for her part in the downfall of Voldemort but she wasn't naïve enough to expect that to last when a new angle on her could be spun in the media.

As she glanced down the dark corridor of Level Ten, the lights from the bracketed torches revealed that the area was almost deserted. The door to Courtroom Three was very close to the staircase and it was here that the only other people in the corridor were congregated. A security guard from the Office of Magical Law stood protectively over the entrance to the courtroom and two very familiar individuals were in the process of arguing with the unmoved guard.

"For the hundredth time," the guard snapped, his blue eyes narrowed in irritation at the two young men, "This is a _closed_ hearing. Unless you show me your summons, you're not coming in."

All three of them seemed to become aware of her approaching presence at the same time because they turned their heads towards her simultaneously. Her friends looked relieved to see her but the guard's features became more annoyed.

"They won't let us in," Harry told her, unaware that she had gathered as much from the conversation she had just overheard.

"Yeah, some bullshit about it being 'closed' even though everyone knows all these trials have been open to the public," Ron muttered, reaching out to put his arm around her.

"This isn't a _trial_ , it's a _hearing_ ," the guard said condescendingly, apparently annoyed enough by Harry and Ron's continued efforts to enter the room that he was willing to be snarky to the young wizards who had caused Voldemort's ultimate downfall. "And hearings can be closed. Just like this one is," he paused after each word to drive home the message that the boys wouldn't be getting in.

Ron let out a grunt of frustration and he glared over at the guard. "Tosser," he muttered and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's just doing his job, Ron," she murmured. "Besides, I honestly think it's a good thing that the proceedings are closed off."

"You don't want us in there to support you?" Harry asked, looking a little hurt.

"Of course I'd rather have you there," she answered truthfully, perfectly aware that it would take a great deal of strength from her to say the words that would defend Dolohov, "but the less people that know about all this, the better. Everyone's going to go ballistic when they hear about this and I'm sure Kingsley wants time to prove that everything pertaining to Dolohov is under control; that he's not going to be a threat to society before the _Prophet_ announces that there's a Death Eater wandering free. It gives us time."

"Us?" Harry repeated.

"If it comes out that I defended Dolohov, I'm going to get a lot of heat," she explained and both boys looked concerned, as though that hadn't occurred to them.

Ron tightened the arm he had around her shoulders. "You don't have to do this, Hermione," he started to tell her but she removed herself from his embrace with a grim smile, aware that he was just trying to protect her.

"I'm going to be late," she said to them, kissing Ron briefly on the lips and then hugging Harry.

"We'll wait here for you," the dark-haired wizard said as she fished out her summons from the pocket of her cloak.

"You don't have to do that," she told him. "I have no idea how long it's going to take."

"We'll be here," Ron confirmed.

She nodded at them both gratefully before presenting the parchment to the guard. Happy with what it showed, he opened the large wooden door and it swung inwards soundlessly. Hermione strode in the courtroom with her head held high; trying to feel the confidence she projected.

Courtroom Three was hardly the first court that she'd entered but it was easily the smallest. And, when she saw the number of people inside, she understood why it had been chosen for this hearing. They certainly hadn't been kidding when they'd said the proceedings were closed…

Because this wasn't a trial, the Wizengamot were not required to attend, but there were still three interrogators sat behind the main desk on a slightly raised platform. Having been in attendance at, and participating in, so many court proceedings lately, Hermione recognised all three of them, even if she'd had no dealings with them outside of the law. The witch in the centre was the recently appointed deputy-head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Conchessa Martin, and she would be the one presiding over the hearing. She had neat, dark blonde hair that stopped just above her shoulders but a couple of streaks of grey were beginning to show amongst the blonde. Martin looked perfectly calm as she spoke lowly to the two wizards either side of her. This wouldn't be the first time that Hermione had witnessed Martin preside over proceedings as she had done so for the trials of Rabastan Lestrange and Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's trial had been one of the first to take place a little over a month ago. Hermione, Harry and Ron had all provided testimony at the trial and Martin had ruled over the case with a firm but objective manner, allowing justice to be served. Although Hermione knew there were many (including Ron) who had been hoping for Draco to be imprisoned for his actions during the war, she had actually been pleased that the blond wizard had avoided a stretch in Azkaban. He would be monitored closely, of course, not least at Hogwarts where he was set to repeat his seventh year alongside her very shortly. Draco Malfoy was hardly her favourite person in the world and, as much as she wanted to hate him for everything that he'd done, she couldn't help but see him as a victim of the war. Conchessa Martin had presided over Rabastan Lestrange's trial in the same controlled, thorough manner but the outcome had been very different – as was fitting to each man's crimes – so Hermione took confidence from the witch's presence, knowing that the hearing was in good hands.

The two men either side of Martin were both significantly older than her but had only recently risen up the ranks in their professions – something not unusual in the aftermath of war, Hermione had discovered. Polonius Hart was a new advisor to the Minister for Magic after a long career in Muggle Relations and looked like a kindly, old grandfather with his round face at soft, fluffy white hair. Hermione felt emboldened to know that someone that worked so closely with Kingsley was part of the interrogating team because the third member of the trio unsettled her a little. Julian Jones was a gnarled and grizzled Auror that strongly brought back memories of Mad-Eye Moody. He had somehow made it through both wizarding wars without losing his life or his job despite all the upheavals and changes of policies. Hermione hadn't been present at any trial he'd interrogated before and she didn't know where he stood on _anything_. She didn't trust someone who could hunt down dark wizards one year, muggleborns a year later, and then revert back to the former when Voldemort had been defeated. Hermione knew that she was probably being too harsh in her caution when many had done whatever was necessary to ensure their safety over the last couple of years, but she couldn't help but feel that Jones' main priority was to always look after himself. However, she had no reason to believe that it would have any bearing on Dolohov's case.

All three interrogators looked up as her footsteps on the tiled floor echoed around the small room and each offered a different reaction upon seeing her: Martin showed no emotion, Hart gave her a faint smile and Jones' mouth tightened into a frown. Hermione nodded her head respectfully at them and then cast her gaze around for where she should sit, her eyes briefly running over the only other people currently in the room: a junior clerk from the law office, who was to make notes of the proceedings, and Kingsley.

The Minister for Magic was sat on one of the raised benches to the side of the interrogators, but he stood when he saw her and walked down the wooden steps to meet her on the tiled floor.

"Hermione," he greeted with an encouraging nod.

"Kingsley," she replied, but she disliked the way her voice was more breathless than she had anticipated. "Where do you want me?"

"Come, sit with me," he offered kindly. He put a hand on her upper back and lead her, not to the section where he'd been previously sat, but to the benches that sat opposite the interrogators and behind the chair that would soon be occupied by Dolohov. Hermione appreciated the gesture. As Minister, Kingsley could sit wherever he bloody well liked but he was showing his support and friendship by offering to sit with her. Not only that, but he chose a position that would ensure that she wouldn't have to see Dolohov's face – and that Dolohov wouldn't be able to see _hers_.

"Are you all right?" Kingsley asked her quietly and she nodded.

"Just want this stupid thing over with," she muttered.

Kingsley chuckled lowly and his arm brushed hers as his body moved marginally with the humour. "You and I both."

She expected the hearing would be over soon – at least her part in it – but she knew that everything else was far from done. There were potential far-reaching consequences from Dolohov's case, of course, but there was still so much more to be done after the war. Locking away the criminals wasn't going to suddenly solve everything. Magical Britain had been wounded to its very core and it would take a long time for it to heal. The issues that had broken the country, turned neighbour against neighbour and friend against friend, could not be swept under the rug. Voldemort may have been defeated but his ideals of blood supremacy and wizarding superiority over muggles were a festering sickness that threatened to cripple magical kind for generations to come if they were not remedied. She knew that Kingsley faced a difficult task in the weeks, months and possibly even years ahead in order to repair their community but it was a cause he appeared willing to take on, and Hermione was going to be right there with him. She had to complete her education first and maybe get a couple of years of employment under her belt, but then she was going to fight. Not in the way she had in Hogwarts a few months ago (Merlin, she hoped to never have to fight like that again!) but fight for the world she wanted, the world an eleven-year-old muggleborn deserved to discover on their first step into Diagon Alley.

She felt a recently familiar fire surge within her as she envisioned the future she was going to create but it was quickly extinguished when Martin called loudly for Dolohov to be brought into room. The future would have to wait…

Just like the door Hermione had entered, the one that Dolohov was escorted through swung noiselessly. An auror held tight to each of the Death Eater's upper arms and their wands were trained at his torso as they frogmarched him to the chair in the middle of the courtroom. Hermione doubted they needed to be so heavy-handed with Dolohov – she didn't believe he was going to attempt anything when this hearing was set to see him released from prison.

Due to the positioning of the aurors and the direct line they took to the chair, Hermione could see very little of Antonin Dolohov's figure and nothing at all of his face, something she was grateful for. She wasn't scared to look at him, she'd just rather not if she could help it.

Once he was seated, conjured chains locked themselves noisily around Dolohov's arms and shoulders. She watched as he instinctively struggled against them but they held him tight, like they knew he was about to be set free.

Conchessa Martin started with the administrative questions that required him to confirm his name and date of birth, amongst other details. Hermione fought to repress a shudder at the sound of his low emotionless voice. It sounded jagged, as though it hadn't been used much recently, quite unlike the strong, harsh tones she'd heard in their previous encounters.

"Antonin Dolohov, this hearing has been called to assess the validity of the life debt you seek to invoke," Martin stated. "Whom do you declare as owing this debt to you?"

"Hermione Granger."

There was no stopping the shiver this time at the sound of her name on his lips. He jerked slightly against his chains and she wondered if he had intended to look around to see if she was present before considering it pointless given the restraints. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably.

"We each have a written account of what you _allege_ regarding Miss Granger's _supposed_ life debt," Jones told Dolohov and, if Hermione thought the old auror had been frowning at _her_ , he was openly scowling at the Death Eater.

"It's what happened," Dolohov insisted, the harsh quality returning to his voice at Jones' insinuation that he was lying.

"Well, let us find out how closely the two accounts match," Hart suggested to the other interrogators before glancing across the room at Hermione.

Martin nodded in agreement. "Yes. Hermione Granger, please step forwards to provide the court with your account of what happened between yourself and Antonin Dolohov during the Battle of Hogwarts nearly four months ago."

There was no questioning Dolohov's attempts to face her this time. The chains clanged loudly but, despite his best efforts, he could not turn his head far enough to see her. Eyes transfixed on the Death Eater in front of her, Hermione felt Kingsley squeeze her hand in a gesture of support. Steeling herself, she got to her feet and cast her mind back to that most terrible of nights…

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A/N Thank you for reading! Anybody got any predictions on what Dolohov's sentence is going to be?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello! Thanks for your support of this fic!

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 _2_ _nd_ _May 1998_

 _Hermione stared at the disintegrated pieces of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. Another horcrux had been ticked off the list but, once again, it had nearly cost them their lives. The putrid stink of singed hair hung around her head and her clothes still felt abnormally hot after their close encounter with Fiendfyre. Yes,_ Fiendfyre! _She shivered, despite the lingering heat of the curse._ How could Crabbe have been so incredibly stupid as to unleash such an unstable and volatile spell?! _The boy had paid for his idiocy with his life but Hermione thought it was a small miracle that the rest of them had been able to escape from the destructive flames. She glanced over her shoulder at where they had left Goyle and Malfoy but the two smoke-blackened wizards were running away down the Seventh Floor corridor as fast as they could. Hermione let them go; she, Harry and Ron had more important things to focus on._

" _But don't you realise?" Hermione whispered to her friends, trying to get them to understand the significance of destroying another horcrux, of ridding the world of another piece of Voldemort's soul. "This means, if we can just get the snake – "_

 _There were shouts further down the corridor, in the opposite direction that Malfoy and Goyle had fled, and the friends looked up in alarm. Percy and Fred Weasley backed into view as they duelled with a couple of masked and hooded Death Eaters. Ignoring the despairing clench of her stomach at seeing Death Eaters in the heart of the castle, Hermione clutched her wand and ran, with Harry and Ron, towards the fighting wizards in order to lend their support. The corridor was filled with bright flashes of light and Percy's dueller backed off quickly. As he did so, his face became revealed and they all saw that it was the Minister for Magic, Pius Thicknesse._

 _Percy quickly took out his boss, whilst simultaneously announcing his resignation, and the other Death Eater was brought down by a combination of three stunning spells. Hermione allowed herself to smile at the gleeful incredulity on Fred's face at the joking way Percy had spoken to the Minister._

 _The explosion came out of nowhere._

 _The force of the blast tossed her body into the air, like she was nothing more than a ragdoll, and Hermione braced herself for a painful impact. Her chest jarred into the stone floor with enough force to knock all the air from her lungs and the wand tumbled out of her grasp. Hermione couldn't stop panic sweeping through her as she struggled to breathe, and she worried for the fate of her friends as debris rained down around them. She sat up, hoping that the change in position would get her lungs to work properly again and that's when she heard the deep groan above her._

 _Thick dust fell into her eyes as she glanced upwards in time to see the ceiling give way above her. A terrifying amount of ancient stone plummeted towards her. Hermione flung her arm to the side in a desperate attempt to find her wand as she used her other arm to shield her head, but she knew both of her efforts would be futile – the stone was falling too fast and there was too much of it._

 _She was about to die._

I'm so sorry, Harry _, a voice in her mind sobbed in apology, knowing that she had failed her best friend._

 _She felt a sudden weight pressing her down and she waited for it to crush her body._

 _A second passed, then another, and Hermione realised that the pressure bearing down on her wasn't increasing. Her eyes snapped open and she could see that the light of some kind of spell was keeping the debris in place where it was just grazing against her skin. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to whichever of her friends had certainly saved her life and she scrambled out from underneath the immobile rubble quickly, cringing whenever the rough stone scraped against her skin._

 _She could see her wand a few inches away and, after a few more seconds' work to extricate herself from the suspended rubble, she closed her fingers around it and shakily got to her knees, her whole body aching. Some sense of awareness made her look down the corridor, away from where the blast had occurred and, with a spark of alarm, she saw Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort's key Death Eaters, standing with his wand drawn. She reacted instinctively, blasting him far away down the corridor and out of sight. However, the moment her spell hit him, the vast amount of stone from the collapsed ceiling gave way and the floor shook with the substantial impact. Her eyes widened in shock at the implication:_ Dolohov _had been the one to cast momentum-stopping spell._

Antonin Dolohov had just saved her life.

 _She had no time to ponder the motive behind his actions because the air was suddenly split with a terrible, pained scream and Hermione's attention was refocused on the fate of her friends. Harry was gingerly rising a few feet away from her and Hermione turned, her heart heavy with dread, towards the direction of the scream where three redheaded men were congregated together, one of them lifeless on the floor…_

Hermione blinked, bringing herself back to the courtroom before her memory played out any further into Fred's death.

The interrogators were staring at her and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself defensively. The incident between herself and Dolohov had lasted for only a handful of seconds but it was set to have serious implications.

Conchessa Martin eventually nodded. "The two accounts are suitably consistent," she declared with Hart and Jones murmuring in agreement. Hermione didn't know if she was pleased that Dolohov had been honest or annoyed that he was likely to get what he wanted. "Miss Granger, what do you anticipate would have happened if Mr Dolohov had not cast a spell to halt the momentum of the falling ceiling?"

Hermione paused. This answer was the one that would decide Dolohov's fate. She clenched her fists until her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palms, not wanting to say the words that would see him slip free of the punishment he so obviously deserved. "I would have died," she stated, relieved that her voice didn't waver.

"You're absolutely sure?" Jones asked. "It definitely would have killed you?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. "I have been heavily involved in the restoration work at Hogwarts in the last few months and I have experienced for myself the heaviness and density of the stone the castle is made from. Given the amount that collapsed from the ceiling and the sheer size of the pieces, I have no doubt that it would have crushed me should Dolohov not intervened."

There was a slight clinking of the chains on Dolohov's chair and she tried to push away a mental image her brain had created of the Death Eater grinning in delight at her words.

Jones grunted at her words but Polonius Hart shook his head. "I don't see any reason to doubt the truthfulness of Miss Granger's testimony, given each person's history in the war – I can see no benefit she would receive for lying about the circumstances of the incident."

"Indeed," Martin agreed, looking at Hermione appraisingly. "Speaking of their history, I wonder if I might ask you about the events of the Battle of Department of Mysteries, Miss Granger?"

"Of course," she answered, not surprised that the fight over the prophecy was being brought up.

"According to the official Ministry report on the incident," Martin said, as she perused a piece of parchment on the desk in front of her, "you were severely wounded by Antonin Dolohov, were you not?"

"That's correct," Hermione confirmed.

"Spending many days bedridden under medical care as a result of his curse," Martin continued.

"Yes." Hermione was sure that it was just her subconscious playing tricks on her as the faint scars she bore as a result of his spell started to burn slightly under her robe.

"It was the opinion of the healer that treated you that, had Antonin Dolohov been able to verbalise the spell, the resulting strength of the curse would have killed you," Martin continued bluntly.

"I'm aware of that," Hermione said, unable to resist throwing a dark look at the back of the Death Eater's head.

"So you do not believe his act in saving you on the second of May was an attempt to make up for his actions in the Department of Mysteries?" Martin pressed, watching her closely.

Hermione frowned. In truth, she had never given much thought to the reasons behind Dolohov's spell that night because the memories of the battle were extremely painful. "No," she said slowly. "No, that hadn't really crossed my mind."

"But what do you think _now_?" Hart questioned. "Do you think that's why he did it?"

"If she didn't think it at the time, it's not relevant now," Conchessa Martin argued, turning to her co-interrogator. "Miss Granger didn't view it as a repayment for Dolohov's previous curse and therefore the life debt was sealed between them."

"Nevertheless, I would like to hear Miss Granger's opinion on events," Hart maintained, seemingly unconcerned with Martin's interruption as he returned his gaze to Hermione. "Why do you think Antonin Dolohov saved your life, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shifted her posture, a little uncomfortable with the way they kept talking about Dolohov as though he wasn't right there in the room with them. She glanced over at him, though her view was no different than it had been since she'd begun providing evidence: the top of his black-haired head and a pale hand that protruded from the sleeve of one of his chained arms were all she could see. She noted the way his slender fingers repetitively gripped and then released the arm of the chair, as though he was feeling the strain of the hearing just as much as she was. White hot anger swept through her body – he _should_ be suffering! After all that he'd done, Antonin Dolohov deserved to rot behind bars for the rest of his life. She might have lawfully played her part by stating the facts of the incident but if Hart was going to ask her opinion then Hermione was going to damn well give it.

"Considering that Dolohov has spent all of his adult life as a follower of Voldemort and his ideals, I can only assume that it was a case of mistaken identity or an action that he believed would benefit him in some way in the future," Hermione accused, becoming fired up. "As has been previously pointed out, he didn't have any problems attempting to kill me when I was sixteen." Conchessa Martin held up a hand, signalling that Hermione should stop, but the young witch wasn't finished yet. "Nor did he struggle to kill others during the Battle of Hogwarts – less than an hour earlier, he had murdered Remus Lupin!"

"Thank you, Granger, we are well aware of Antonin Dolohov's crimes," Martin said sharply as Hermione paused to draw breath.

"Then you must agree with me how unlikely it would be for him to save the muggleborn best friend of Harry Potter in such a key battle without an ulterior motive!" Hermione argued.

"Miss Granger, I have heard many times of your supposed intelligence," Martin said, her voice lower and colder than Hermione had ever heard it before, "therefore I would expect you to recall that the motive is unimportant when it comes to life debts. Antonin Dolohov saved your life and now we must deal with the legal consequences."

Hermione didn't appreciate the way Martin's words and tone – and even body language – implied that this whole hearing was _her_ fault. And then Martin's demeanour completely changed and she was calm and collected once more. "Unless either of my fellow interrogators have any further questions for you, you may sit down, Miss Granger." Martin looked either side of her but both men shook their heads.

Hermione held Martin's gaze for a moment and then sat promptly next to Kingsley once more. She was severely tempted to walk out of the courtroom altogether so that she would have nothing further to do with this farce of legal justice. However, if she did, she was concerned that the extreme restrictions surrounding the hearing would prevent her from finding out what would happen to Dolohov – she might hate the very sight of him but she'd still rather be aware of the whereabouts of a man who had both tried to take her life and succeeded in saving it.

"Well done," Kingsley murmured, briefly placing a comforting hand on her back.

"I lost it at the end," Hermione replied, shaking her head. She noticed Martin was still watching her and she tried to pretend that the witch's stare wasn't making her uncomfortable.

"Understandable," Kingsley soothed and she sent him an appreciative smile, happy to look away from Conchessa Martin. "I know this wasn't a pleasant experience for you given everything Dolohov's done."

Hermione made a low noise in her throat in agreement as her eyes glared at the back of Dolohov's head once more. "Bastard," she breathed, before she could stop herself from swearing in front of the Minister.

Her cheeks flared with embarrassment at the language she was so unused to using and she opened her mouth to apologise but, before she could, Kingsley muttered, " _Fucking murdering cunt_."

Hermione was so astonished that she almost let out a hysterical laugh. When she glanced at him, she saw no evidence of the hatred with which he'd directed those words at Dolohov and she marvelled at his ability to mask his feelings. Judging by his demeanour, she had never really considered that Kingsley might be as furious and disgusted as herself or Harry with Dolohov's case but she recalled that he had worked closely with Remus for many years through the Order. And, as an auror, he had dedicated his life to stopping dark witches and wizards – had put his life on the line over and over again for the light – and for one of those people to now slip through his grasp on a technicality must be utterly sickening.

"It is the finding of this hearing that Antonin Dolohov's claim of a life debt has been verified," Martin announced, glancing down to the wizard who was rapidly taking down the minutes of the proceedings before switching her gaze to the chained Death Eater below her. "Do you wish to utilise the legal power of the debt?"

"I do," Dolohov confirmed instantly and Hermione's lip curled in disgust at the prospect of his impeding freedom.

Martin nodded curtly, her face not showing the disapproving and disgruntled emotions of the interrogators sat either side of her. "Antonin Dolohov, as a result of your calling on the life debt owed to you by Hermione Granger, I hereby enact Article Four of the Life Debt Act of 1732, which immunises you from a prison sentence for your past crimes."

Even through the distorted vision caused by her unbidden tears despite the expected outcome, Hermione saw Dolohov's head lower heavily at the words that confirmed his release. She felt a flash of white-hot hatred for the man as the chains unlocked noisily from his body, and she wanted to shout and scream in protest at his undeserved reprieve.

She heard Kingsley sigh next to her as she wiped at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. "What happens now?" she asked him, trying in vain to keep the emotion out of her voice.

"They will decide what to do with him," he murmured in reply.

"It's as simple as that?" Hermione questioned.

Kingsley chuckled darkly as he surveyed the interrogators. "I do not anticipate this part being simple at all given Dolohov's history. And when they do agree on a sentence, it will still require approval from my office – but that's just a formality."

"However, the seriousness of your past crimes – of which we have many pieces of written testimony – necessitates a non-custodial sentence," Martin announced, drawing Hermione's attention back to the centre of the room.

Dolohov's head snapped upwards and Hermione could see that Julian Jones looked darkly amused as he stared down at the Death Eater. "You didn't think you were just going to walk out of here, did you?" he sneered and then he laughed, obviously seeing something in Dolohov's expression. "Oh, you _did_."

Martin sent her colleague a reproachful look before returning her gaze to Dolohov. "As I stated earlier, the life debt protects you from going to prison but not from another sentence."

Hermione felt a tiny thrill of victory at Dolohov's disappointment and she recalled Kingsley's words from the previous day that proclaimed his expectation that Dolohov wouldn't become a 'free' man.

"Subsection C of Article Four of the Life Debt Act enables the interrogators overseeing a case, such as this, the right to consign the accused witch or wizard another type of sentence should they be seen as a danger to society," Martin explained.

"Ordinarily, the supervision of the accused would be transferred to a family member or someone who has spoken up in the accused witch or wizard's defence," Hart took up. "As we have done for every trial that has taken place since the Battle of Hogwarts, we appealed to members of the magical community to come forward in this way – to vouch for you." Hart paused and Hermione held her breath. "None have."

"And that's why this sentencing is going to be difficult," Kingsley muttered to Hermione. "What do you do with a Death Eater nobody wants?"

Hermione had half turned towards him to flash a grim smile in his direction but Martin's voice made her pause and glance back.

"Actually, Polonius, that's not entirely true, is it?" the deputy head of the DMLE posed, making Hermione frown in confusion. Kingsley tensed next to her and she was about to ask what Martin was talking about when the blonde witch's next words made her blood freeze. " _Hermione Granger_ has come forward in Antonin Dolohov's defence…"

If it wasn't enough that her brain had shut down at those words and their implications, without the chains to keep him in place, Dolohov's movements were no longer restricted and Hermione found herself pinned down by the intense gaze of her saviour…

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A/N Thank you for reading! Sorry I had to make you relive a little bit of Fred's death there :(

Please let me know what you think so far.

Until next time...

Love,

Red


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi, lovely people! Thank you for all your support for this fic.

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" _I don't care if he's the Minister for Magic now!"_ Antonin heard Molly Weasley shriek through the closed door. _"Kingsley's lost his damn mind if he thinks I'm just going to stand by and let this happen to poor Hermione!"_

"Nice going, Ron," he heard her – the mudblood, Granger, Hermione – sigh with irritation. "Why did you have to run off and blab to your mother the second after I told you the verdict?"

"Because this whole thing is complete _bullshit,_ " the young Weasley boy hissed. "And if anyone's going to get Kingsley to see sense, it's Mum; Minister or not, I know she terrifies him."

Antonin was surprised that the offices of the Minister for Magic weren't better warded against eavesdropping. He was being held in a small room off the main corridor to the Minister's office and he knew that Granger, Weasley and Potter were standing somewhere on the plush, blue carpet that lined the other side of his door. From the sounds of it, Molly Weasley was giving Kingsley Shacklebolt's secretary hell until she would grant her an audience with the Minister.

"It was a _closed_ hearing, Ron," Granger murmured as a door slammed shut somewhere. "I wasn't really supposed to tell you two what happened and now your mum's about to shout it out to the whole Ministry!"

"Good," Weasley replied stubbornly. "Then maybe Kingsley'll put an end to this nonsense before it even starts."

The young voices became silent for a moment and the far-off screeching of Molly Weasley filled the void.

"Did you see the annoyed look on his face?" Granger sighed.

"Who cares? It's his fault this has happened," Potter muttered angrily and Antonin surmised that Shacklebolt had walked past them. "If he hadn't told you to go to the hearing, you wouldn't be stuck babysitting that bastard for the next two years."

"I _told_ you, it was Conchessa Martin's doing," Granger explained, sounding irritated. "Kingsley didn't anticipate this would happen at all."

Antonin thought that was one way of putting it as he recalled what had transpired once Martin had pointed out that Granger had defended him…

"Hermione Granger _has come forward in Antonin Dolohov's defence…_ "

 _Antonin couldn't stop himself from turning around to finally look at the young witch._

 _She was smaller than he remembered._

 _Maybe that was just because she was sat next to the imposing figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Or, perhaps, she had shrunken inwards to protect herself from the implications of Martin's words._

 _Antonin was very shocked by the blonde witch's announcement but it was fair to say that Granger looked fucking horrified. The Minister's expression was not much better._

" _Madam Martin, you cannot be serious," Shacklebolt said as he got to his feet. Antonin couldn't help but notice that the Minister took a half-step in front of Granger as he did so in a subtle display of protection for the young witch, but he couldn't be sure whether he did it to protect her from Martin's words or Antonin's gaze. He could still see a few locks of her curly hair and half of her slender body, but her wide, doe eyes were hidden from him. "Miss Granger has provided evidence at this hearing at the request of the Office of Magical Law, nothing more. She merely stated the facts and even voiced her opinion that Dolohov was undeserving of his reprieve. That's hardly grounds for her to be considered a guarantor."_

" _I'm afraid you're mistaken, Minister," Martin replied coolly and the interrogators either side of her exchanged looks of surprise at the way she stood up to Shacklebolt. "Hermione Granger's willingness to testify in favour of the defendant in person is lawfully viewed as a show of support for him._ By law," _she stressed, "she_ is _a viable candidate to supervise Antonin Dolohov: the only candidate."_

 _There was a long pause as Martin and Shacklebolt eyed each other, neither willing to break their gaze. "And if Hermione had submitted written testimony?" the Minister asked eventually, his voice icy. "An option my Office was not informed was a possibility."_

" _It doesn't carry the same weight, as I'm sure you know," Martin replied calmly, unfazed by Shacklebolt's tone._

" _Would it have been accepted by the hearing?" he pressed, and Antonin had the distinct impression that Shacklebolt was forcing himself to remain calm._

 _When Martin didn't make to answer, Jones replied, looking between the Minister and the DMLE deputy as though he was missing something. "It is always preferable for witnesses to be here in person but I see no reason why Miss Granger's written testimony would have been dismissed."_

" _And her viability as a candidate?" Shacklebolt posed darkly._

 _Every pair of eyes in the room looked to Martin. "Ineligible," she stated calmly._

 _There was a soft noise from somewhere behind him, like a gasp or sob, and Antonin knew it had come from Granger._

" _You set this up," the Minister angrily accused Martin._

" _I am simply implementing the law, Minister," she denied unemotionally, "and, according to its rulings, Hermione Granger will shortly assume responsibility for Antonin Dolohov for a period of time to be determined by the appointed interrogators."_

" _This is ridiculous!" Shacklebolt cried in disbelief._

" _You object to the laws that govern our society?" Martin asked pointedly._

" _I object to your execution of them," he countered. "You may have legally trapped Hermione into eligibility but it would be obvious to anyone that she is_ not _a suitable candidate. There are other options available pertaining to Dolohov's future. As interrogators, you are representatives of the Wizengamot and are expected to oversee our legal proceedings wisely; with good judgement."_

" _I fail to see your objections to our intention to follow the law as it is set out," Martin stated. "Miss Granger is of age – "_

" _Barely," Shacklebolt interrupted._

" _She_ is _of age," insisted Martin._

" _I'm going back to Hogwarts in a few days." It had been so long since he had heard Granger speak that the sound of her voice took Antonin by surprise. He twisted to look back at her, noticing that, while she had stepped out of Shacklebolt's shadow, she still looked fragile and utterly breakable. "You don't honestly think it would be a good idea for him to be attending classes with me in the very castle he helped destroy? Or that he be amongst the muggleborn children he wanted wiped from existence?"_

 _Antonin remained very still. He didn't know what the fuck was going on between Martin, Shacklebolt and Granger but it most certainly was having an impact on his potential fate and he absolutely did_ not _want to be under the supervision of a mudblood who fucking hated him, surrounded by teenagers at the location of the battle that had seen his life turn to shit once more. Anything would be better than that– except being sent back to Azkaban, of course._

" _A Death Eater roaming around Hogwarts," Shacklebolt scoffed, his tone implying just how ridiculous a notion that was. "The idea behind a guarantor is that it's supposed to keep others safe."_

" _Where Miss Granger will be living following the conclusion of this hearing should not determine its outcome," Martin argued._

" _Conchessa, listen to yourself!" the Minister snapped. "Those children have been through_ hell _over the last couple of years. You cannot deliver a verdict that will see an embodiment of their nightmares stalking the same corridors as them! Surely you're not that heartless!"_

" _The law is not sentimental, Minister," she said, "And nor should those who utilise it be. If Headmistress McGonagall dislikes the ruling of this hearing, I suggest she take it up with Miss Granger herself. Obviously, Antonin Dolohov will not be permitted a wand for the first half of his parole and, being in such a well populated location, he will naturally be observed by many others besides Miss Granger during his time in the castle."_

 _Antonin observed the positive impact these words had on the other two interrogators. Up to that point, they looked like they were thoroughly against the idea and would try to persuade Martin to choose a less radical alternative. Now, there was a softening to their features as they saw a way they could justify adhering to the law – even_ with _the part about sending a murderer amongst school children. Antonin would've been impressed with the way Martin had argued her points with cool logic and manipulated the two men either side of her if she wasn't dead set on giving him a sentence he would find intolerable._

" _The teachers, the pupils, even the ghosts and portraits," Jones mused aloud, listing the different ways he could be spied upon. "If he slips up, he's going to be spotted."_

" _Exactly," Martin agreed shortly, the smallest lift in her lips showing how pleased she was with herself for bringing him onside._

 _Antonin couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder to look at how Granger was taking this dismissal of her objections. Her mouth was open in stunned disbelief and, as he watched, she slumped back onto the bench with her head buried in her hands as Shacklebolt put a comforting hand on her shoulder…_

 _After that point, the details were thrashed out rather quickly. Antonin was to be entrusted to Hermione Granger's supervision for a period of two years, wandless for the first twelve months and then with a regularly monitored wand for the remaining length of his sentence. Granger was to be given five days to make appropriate preparations before Antonin was to be dumped in her presence. However, they would have to make monthly visits to the Office of Magic Law so that the powers-that-be could ease their consciences that he wasn't murdering mudbloods and practising dark magic._

 _Conchessa Martin tried to hide her satisfaction with the outcome as she and the other interrogators stood to bring the hearing to a close, but there was a hint of smugness as she looked down on Antonin to confirm the outcome she had orchestrated. Her last, stinging words, though, were reserved for the disbelieving pair of the Minister for Magic and the mudblood who had helped bring down the Dark Lord. "I look forward to receiving the notification approving this adherence to the law by the end of the day, Minister."_

 _Antonin watched the blow land and Shacklebolt's posture became so damn rigid that he thought the new Minister's jaw might snap. Granger sucked in a sudden breath and gripped Shacklebolt's arm, turning to him with wide, hopeful eyes. Her mouth was moving rapidly and, though her voice was too quiet for Antonin to hear what she said, he assumed she was appealing to him to withhold his approval on the hearing's judgement. Antonin nearly laughed at her naiveté – could she really be so fucking clueless at how the world worked?_ He _didn't want the sentence to be carried out, of course, but he wasn't stupid enough to hope that the Minister would intervene in a perfectly legal procedure so early on in his political career purely because of his curious affection for the little curly-haired witch._

 _A painful grimace settled on Shacklebolt's face before he turned apologetic eyes on her earnest face. Again, Antonin couldn't catch what he was saying, but the way Granger's face fell with despair was telling enough. Antonin couldn't stop his lip from curling at the way her eyes began to glisten, envisioning with dread what two years under the overly emotional and sickeningly righteous girl's care would be like. How had such a weak creature been so crucial in helping to bring about the Dark Lord's end?_

 _She seemed to sense his disdain because their eyes suddenly met across the courtroom. Her posture changed immediately; the wetness disappearing from her eyes as her expression hardened under his scrutiny._ Good, _he thought, relieved beyond measure that she didn't want him to see her cry – there was very little he found more pitiful in the world than_ fucking tears _. Whether you blamed it on his time in Azkaban, his time as a Death Eater, his Slytherin education or even his childhood, it was all one and the same –_ emotion was for the weak _._

 _But that opposition to sentiment hadn't stopped him from ending up on the losing side of the war, at the mercy of others, had it?_

He was saved from having to explore that thought as one of the boys let out a loud scoff at Shacklebolt's lack of foresight. "He's still giving his approval as Minister though, isn't he?" Antonin heard the Weasley boy mutter darkly. "He can stop this and he's not. Mum'll make him do the right thing."

A strange noise erupted from Granger that Antonin wouldn't feel confident in categorising emotionally unless he could see her face. " _Ron_!" Exasperation, Antonin settled on after hearing her tone of voice. "The Minister's approval is a _formality_ – he can't overturn the hearing's decision without causing a huge political storm. I'm not worth - "

"Yes, you're bloody worth it, Hermione!" Potter interrupted passionately. "Don't you ever question that! You know we're always going to fight for you anyway, but all the wizards and witches of this country owe you a huge debt after what you've been through."

"We _all_ went through," she corrected dismissively.

"Yeah, but we're not the ones that have been stitched up with a murdering psycho, are we?" Weasley pointed out.

There was a pause.

"Molly's not going to be able to change anything," Granger said thickly. "Martin was too clever. I've sent a message to Profess- _Headmistress_ McGonagall and I'm going to resign from being Head Girl. I might even drop out of Hogwarts altogether."

"We'll see about that, Miss Granger," a new stern voice said and Antonin recognised it at once; his old transfiguration professor had a very distinctive burr, after all.

"H-headmistress," Granger stammered, sounding surprised.

"I may be only just getting to grips with this _ridiculous_ development," the older witch said in a strong but scornful tone, "but I can assure you that, whatever the implications, I will not be allowing you to throw away your education, Hermione."

Before she could make any response, the door was suddenly thrown open and Minerva McGonagall strode in, giving him much the same look as she had when she'd caught him with an unauthorised book from the restricted section in his second year at school. Not appreciating her attempts to intimidate him back into his thirteen-year-old self, he glanced past her and saw a small group of people with similarly distasteful expressions on their faces as they looked at him – he supposed he'd better get used to that.

Potter and Weasley were almost comical in their over-the-top take on anger but Granger looked weary more than anything. Behind her, Shacklebolt wasn't giving much away but his dislike was heavy around his eyes. In contrast, Molly Weasley's revulsion was written all over her face.

"Well, don't just sit there, Antonin," McGonagall snapped at him, and he brought his eyes back to hers, repressing a flinch at the use of his given name. "Get up; we're going to the Minister's office to discuss, like _civilised adults_ ," she raised her clipped voice so that it carried out to the corridor (though whether her intended targets were the two teenaged boys or, possibly, the fiery matriarch, he wasn't sure) before lowering it right down to a whisper so only the two of them could hear, "how your utterly underwhelming life choices have now _fucked_ with my school, my students and Miss Granger's life."

And he was so surprised at the steeliness of her tone and her language that it was all he could do to remember to fix a heavy glare on his face as he followed her wordlessly to the Minister's office.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Badass!McGonagall is fun to write! :D

Anyone want to hazard a guess at why Martin was so intent at stitching Hermione up?

Would love to hear what you think so far!

I hope it won't be too long before I update again.

Love,

Red


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Argh, so it's been forever-and-a-day since I updated this! Thank you to all those who've reviewed over the months to try and coax me into writing another chapter - it worked eventually!

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Molly Weasley was only allowed to say a single word, "Kingsley – "before the Minister abruptly cut her off.

"My hands are tied, Molly," he said firmly, but Hermione could detect a note of weariness in his tone that she could certainly relate to.

"But – " Molly tried again but she was interrupted by Headmistress McGonagall this time.

"Molly, do you really doubt that the Minister wouldn't put a stop to this if he could?" she asked crisply. Kingsley sent her the smallest glance of thanks for her faith in him before his gaze returned to the protesting Molly.

"Well – "

"You've given your approval though, haven't you?" Ron argued with the Minister and Hermione nearly rolled her eyes at his persistence in the matter despite her own arguments.

" _What?!_ " Molly screeched, obviously unaware of that particular aspect, and Hermione sent Ron a look of frustration for further provoking his mother. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the way they were rallying around her – she couldn't be more touched – but the arguments over something that she had numbly come to accept as inevitable (devastating though it was) was utterly draining.

"Withholding my approval of a legally-sound case would have left this Office open to accusations of corruption and favouritism – something this new and recovering Ministry is not strong enough to survive," Kingsley explained seriously.

Molly was only allowed to let out a dissatisfied, _'hmph'_ before Harry pointed out, "But it was a _closed_ hearing – only a few people know what happened."

Professor McGonagall clicked her tongue and disapprovingly muttered, "Potter," and Kingsley gave him a very flat look.

"Aside from the fact that I've already given my approval, Harry, I find it hard to believe that you would want a Minister for Magic in this new era to intentionally manipulate criminal proceedings – whether that be done behind closed doors or not." Harry looked appropriately sheepish and Kingsley held up a placating hand. "I understand that you didn't mean to insult me and you're merely seeking to protect Hermione, but I can also assure you that, even if I _were_ the sort of disreputable politician who secretly sought to influence the law to my personal preferences, Conchessa Martin would be sure to expose me for it and, I now suspect, would delight in doing so."

"Conchessa?" Molly asked, looking confused. "What she's got to do with this?"

"She was the lead interrogator," Kingsley explained. "Came in with an agenda, if I'm not mistaken, and knew the exact wording of the law to ensure that Hermione would end up being responsible for Dolohov."

Kingsley's eyes flickered to a spot at the edge of the room and the other occupants were unpleasantly reminded of the glowering presence in the corner. He was so still and quiet that if Hermione wasn't hyper alert of the Death Eater, she might have been lulled into forgetting he was there.

Molly, meanwhile, was still pondering over the involvement of Martin. "I've known her since we were at school together and Arthur always spoke very highly of her in a professional context," she said, a frown on her face.

Kingsley briefly displayed an ironic expression but then he nodded. "This _is_ somewhat out of character for her; I've never known her offer anything but impartial justice in her involvement in the law until now."

Professor McGonagall echoed Molly's earlier disapproving, "Hmph!" before adding, "I shall make my displeasure known to Conchessa in due course – always a great pleasure to let your former students know they have disappointed you," she said bitingly, with a pointed look at Dolohov. He glared back at her but the Headmistress had already moved on. "But, right now, we need to sort out the practicalities of the sentence: of how Miss Granger's education at Hogwarts is not going to be disrupted by Antonin's presence."

Hermione felt a rush of warmth for the older woman and her insistence that Hermione's needs be prioritised, but Molly flared up at once. "Hogwarts?" she gasped. "You can't mean – surely, Minerva, - absolutely _unthinkable,"_ she spluttered.

"Hermione has every right to complete her education at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall stated. Her voice was calm and yet she was somehow able to convey that while she sympathised with Molly as the mother of a student, the matter wasn't up for discussion.

"Oh, of course she does," Molly agreed and Hermione didn't for a moment suspect that she was being insincere. "But having _him_ there," she seemed to repress a shudder at the mere thought of Dolohov and she wouldn't look in his direction. "That is completely out of the question – a different arrangement must be made."

Hermione felt her stomach twist anxiously and her previous relief at the reassurances from Professor McGonagall was eradicated by what she knew about the details of Dolohov's sentence.

"Where Granger goes, _I_ go." The low, menacing voice from the corner was so unexpected that Molly physically jumped, while everyone else shot glares in Dolohov's direction. "That's the ruling."

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me!" Molly snapped furiously, clutching at her chest.

Dolohov's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to respond but Kingsley held up a quelling hand. "Just _don't_ ," he warned the Death Eater and, though Dolohov glowered, he thankfully closed his mouth. Kingsley turned back to Molly with an air of heaviness. "He's right though: being in Hermione's care means, in this case, that they're to always reside in the same place – he can't just be palmed off somewhere secure."

Molly was still breathing heavily and her face was taut. "His presence at Hogwarts is unacceptable," she said firmly. "And I can assure you that the parents of the other students will feel the same, as will the rest of wizarding Britain – we will not be sending our children to a school inhabited by a murdering Death Eater!"

"He can cause no harm, Molly," Professor McGonagall reassured her, "he isn't allowed access to a wand and he will be watched intently. I promise you."

"His mere presence is reason enough to object!" Molly argued. "How are the children supposed to grieve properly and move on with him lurking around the castle like a perpetual boggart?! They've been through so much already."

"No one is pretending that this isn't an infuriating set of circumstances, Molly," Kingsley said. "The last thing I want to do is bring further pain to the students – "

"Do you think I should withdraw my place, Mrs Weasley?" Hermione asked, the question bursting from her before she lost her nerve.

Molly winced slightly before composing herself as she turned to Hermione. "Only you can make that choice, dear, and I don't want to influence your decision."

Hermione's spirits plummeted further. Molly hadn't vocalised it but it was clear that she thought it would be better for everyone else if Hermione _didn't_ complete her education at Hogwarts. And if Molly Weasley, something like a second mother to her, thought that then Hermione could imagine that the other parents would be even more firmly against her.

"Well, I think you _should_ go," Harry said firmly. "Getting your NEWTs is very important to you. You've given so much over the last few years – it's time for you to get what you want and deserve for a change."

"Well put, Potter," Professor McGonagall said approvingly but Molly still looked covertly disapproving.

"Wait a minute," Ron said holding up his hand. "So, this is _actually_ happening; Hermione's stuck with him? We're not going to fight it?"

"A lawful decision was made," Kingsley said heavily.

"We can't appeal?" Ron asked incredulously but the Minister shook his head.

"That only applies to life sentences or executions," he explained. "I'm afraid this sentence has to be carried out as outlined in the hearing."

"Well, that's _crap_ ," Ron snapped, earning him a severe admonishment from his mother but he stood up and glared at Kingsley. "There's no way we can let that psycho stay with Hermione – he'll kill her even without a wand!"

" _Idiot_ ," Dolohov snarled at him, his face twisted with intense dislike. "You really think I want to go back to Azkaban?"

Molly rose from her seat and half-stepped in front of Ron. "Don't talk to my son!" she screeched.

Dolohov rolled his eyes and, much to her alarm, fixed his gaze on Hermione and addressed her for the very first time. "I won't hurt you." Once that had been stated, he returned his eyes to the corner of Kingsley's desk.

Hermione's heart hammered in her chest due to the fear that had been provoked by his brief interaction with her and she wondered how she was going to get through the next two years in his presence. However, while he terrified her, a small part of her was beginning to accept that he _was_ probably being honest. His reactions had shown that he hadn't anticipated being released to her care so it was unlikely that his sole purpose for utilising the life debt and evading Azkaban was just to kill her. He had to know that he'd be returned to the prison if he harmed her or anyone else and she knew that Dolohov wasn't stupid enough to risk it.

"How reassuring," Ron sneered. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Harry reached up and pulled Ron back down into his seat. "Hogwarts will keep Hermione safe," he reassured him before glancing over at Professor McGonagall. "Won't it?"

"Of course," she confirmed. "The staff, portraits, house elves and ghosts will all be tasked in observing you, Antonin – your every movement will be watched." He shot her a baleful look but remained silent.

"And the sleeping arrangements?" Molly enquired. "I trust he'll be locked away at night."

Professor McGonagall looked to Kingsley but the Minister shrugged. "He'll be in Hermione's care. She's to decide the technicalities of his provision but he's expected to be treated humanely."

Molly scoffed at the adverb and Hermione doubted how much humanity the man had shown to others in his lifetime.

"I understand that Antonin will transfer into your care on the third of September," Professor McGonagall said and Hermione nodded. "We'll sort out the details of his accommodation once you've arrived on the first."

Hermione nodded again, unable to think of anything to say. It was all happening so quickly.

"If you don't mind, I shall come up and see the measures you decide on for myself," Kingsley requested and Professor McGonagall gave her consent. "I expect a lot of reassurances will need to be made to the magical community when this breaks," he added, "which is why I think we have to announce something imminently. There will be mass hysteria if this isn't handled properly or sensitively in the media."

"Yes, I agree," Professor McGonagall responded. "We need to be as upfront and honest with the parents as possible."

"But you'll make it clear that this isn't Hermione's fault, right?" Harry said, voicing the very fear that had just reared in Hermione's mind.

"Of course," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "Any angry parents will be directing their owls to Conchessa Martin if I have my way."

"You'll have to reassure them that there will be as little interaction between him and the children as possible," Molly voiced, still looking deeply unhappy, but Hermione appreciated the supportive comment. She knew that however hard this was for herself, it was even worse for Molly to be in the same room with the man who had murdered her twin brothers; as the mother who was still grieving for her son; as the matriarch who just wanted to keep the rest of her children safe.

The gesture was obviously appreciated by Kingsley, too, for he asked, "Will you help us write the statement that will be sent to the parents and the _Prophet,_ Molly? It will be so helpful to have your input in the wording so as to cause the least distress."

Molly nodded solemnly. "Of course."

Hermione felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She couldn't believe that it was only a couple of hours ago that she'd entered that courtroom – so much had changed since then and Dolohov's continual presence was emotionally draining, but she told herself that she'd have to get used to him being there if she was to succeed in her studies.

There was a rhythmic knock at the door and Kingsley called for the person to enter. Hermione recognised his secretary walking towards him, looking very stricken about something. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Minister," she said as she stepped delicately between the seated inhabitants of the room, "but you need to see this."

She unfolded a newspaper and placed it in front of him. Kingsley's face immediately fell and he clenched his jaw very tightly. Hermione got the impression that he was having to refrain from holding his head in his hands at whatever the paper showed. "Damnit," he said tightly, his eyes rapidly moving back and forth over the text. "This has already been circulated?" he asked his secretary, glancing up for the briefest moment before resuming his reading.

"Yes. The _Prophet's_ evening post owls were released eleven minutes ago – there's no way to recall them all."

"What is it?" Harry asked anxiously.

A sick sense of dread settled in Hermione's stomach because she had an awful feeling she knew what had happened.

"Martin's released the results of the hearing to the _Prophet_ ," he muttered, confirming Hermione's fear and sending a great wave of anxiety through her. "And the resulting article in the Evening edition is as frenetic as we predicted." He glanced up at Professor McGonagall. "It states that he'll be going to Hogwarts."

The Headmistress muttered under her breath as she walked over to his desk so she could read over his shoulder. Most of the others followed suit but Hermione found herself paralysed. She knew first-hand how damaging the media could be and any statement that was released from the Minister's Office or Hogwarts would do little to repair the damage now – people tended to believe the first version of events they read.

Professor McGonagall made a disgusted noise low in her throat and shook her head. "When I get my hands on Conchessa…" she threatened ominously. "What in Merlin's name was she thinking?! Will she be reprimanded for this leak?"

"Technically, it's not a leak," Kingsley admitted with a hearty scowl. "As Deputy Head of the DMLE, she has the authority to release the outcomes of criminal proceedings but it's an unwritten rule to wait for the go-ahead from the Minister's office. She's put one over on us _again_." He glanced up at Hermione. "I'm sorry," he said, "I should've done a better job of protecting you from all of this."

"I take it that I don't come out well in the article," she said tonelessly.

"They don't go as far as criticizing you," Harry replied, still looking down at the paper with a frown, "they wouldn't dare after everything you did in the war."

"But…?" prompted Hermione sensing his hesitation.

"They don't point out that you're a victim of this ruling and Martin's manipulations," Harry explained.

"Right," Hermione said flatly, too drained to give a more emotive response. Her gaze unconsciously slid over to Dolohov but he was watching the proceedings with a disinterested air.

"I can't believe Conchessa Martin would go out of her way to do this," Molly said, shaking her head. "I don't remember her being so pig-headed at school. Of course, she wasn't a Martin then, she was still an Edgecombe, but I always thought she was very approachable."

Hermione's stomach dropped away as she and Harry exchanged a significant look. "Did you say Edgecombe?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Molly asked, looking mildly surprised.

"And she's related to the Madam Edgecombe who worked here in the Ministry?" he pressed.

Kingsley let out a groan of realisation. "Why didn't I see it sooner," he muttered, seemingly confirming the familial link.

Molly looked between them all in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Marietta Edgecombe was the student who told Umbridge about Dumbledore's Army," Hermione said faintly, nausea settling in her stomach. "I had cursed the sign-up sheet so that if anyone blabbed we'd know because…" Her face flushed scarlet. It seemed like such a juvenile thing to have done now and it seemed she'd paid dearly for it.

"Because the word 'sneak' was written across her face in boils that didn't disappear," Harry continued.

"And then, when Dumbledore was confronted about it all by Umbridge in his office, I – " Kingsley stopped abruptly and glanced at Dolohov, before looking over at Hermione. "Well, suffice to say that Martin obviously felt, for her niece's sake, she had a score to settle with us both."

* * *

A/N Well done to anyone who suspected the Edgecombe link.

Massive props must go to a guest reviewer who brought the importance of the media to my attention. Thank you, Guest, whoever you may be!

I fully intend to update much sooner next time. The simple truth is that I got more caught up in a couple of new stories. I've made a deal with myself to try and update them each in turn from now on so we'll see how that goes!

Don't forget to review, lovely people!

Love,

Red


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for all your support.

* * *

Antonin arrived at Hogwarts late on Tuesday evening, escorted by a couple of aurors and the Minister himself.

He was very pleased to see that Shacklebolt looked as though he'd aged a lot since the day of the trial and he suspected that the Minister had managed little sleep since then.

Antonin blamed both Granger and Shacklebolt for this whole mess. It might have been Martin who had orchestrated the actual sentencing but Antonin almost admired the lengths she had gone to in order to get revenge for a slight against a family member – it was a very Slytherin-like move. He didn't know how exactly Shacklebolt was involved because the Minister had been careful not to voice it in Antonin's presence, but it was obviously serious enough for him to feel culpable. Antonin didn't understand what Dumbledore's Army was but there was no mistaking Granger's admission to cursing another student. He'd been a little surprised at the revelation and there was obviously more to the girl than the squeaky-clean image she presented, but that was why he blamed her so much for their predicament. She and Shacklebolt were supposed to be the 'good' guys but they were still guilty of pulling underhand shit and it had come back to bite them. Antonin would be very smug about that had he not been caught up in it all himself.

They flooed directly into McGonagall's office, where the Headmistress and Granger were waiting for him. If he'd thought that Shacklebolt looked bad, it was nothing compared to his new custodian. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked pale and waxy. She was watching him apprehensively and he gazed stonily back at her for a while, before casting his eyes around the Headmistress' office. He had never been in the room before, having been sly enough to avoid ever being in enough trouble to require a trip to the office whilst a student at the school. There was little furniture in the room apart from a large desk but the walls were lined with portraits. He didn't recognise most of the subjects but a large painting behind her desk showed a pensive Albus Dumbledore. A ripple of anger curled through his stomach at the sight of the old fool and he moved his gaze towards the other portraits, though most of those occupants were much more open with their hostility.

A number of aggrieved voices erupted from the portraits but McGonagall held up a quelling hand. "I don't want to hear it," she snapped, glaring around at the paintings.

Shacklebolt stepped forwards and shook the Headmistress' hand and then gave Granger's shoulder a supportive squeeze. The three of them murmured low words to each other that Antonin couldn't hear and then they moved out of the office and into the castle proper.

The corridors looked much as he remembered them from his youth and there were only a few places where the spell damage from the Final Battle hadn't been completely repaired. Given the late hour, they came across no one else on their journey up to the fourth floor but Antonin could hear the whisperings of the portraits as he passed.

They stopped in front of a large portrait of a severe-looking witch in lavender robes. She eyed Antonin distastefully. "So, this is him, is it?" the portrait asked with a strong Welsh accent.

"Yes, Alys, this is Antonin," McGonagall replied briskly.

"I've got my eye on you, lad," Alys told him firmly but Antonin wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by what was nothing more than enchanted paint. "If you leave these rooms without Miss Granger's permission, I'll be reporting you straight to the Headmistress."

Antonin chose not to say anything in response and simply glowered back.

"Tantalus," Granger said and the portrait swung forwards so they could enter.

They emerged into what was, in essence, a common room. There were a couple of armchairs and a sofa around a fireplace, and two work tables set against the stone walls. Three doors led away from the room, which he correctly guessed led to separate bedrooms and a shared bathroom.

"The door to the bathroom will automatically lock once someone has entered it and the same is true of Miss Granger's bedroom," McGonagall informed him. "Yours doesn't," she added at his silent question but Antonin wasn't exactly surprised. From the look on her face, he doubted Granger would come anywhere near him if she could help it so he didn't really care.

"As I'm sure you can imagine, news of your impending presence here has caused much consternation amongst the parents, students and even some of the staff," McGonagall continued brusquely. "I know you're not stupid, Antonin – even if your previous choices to devote yourself to that despicable creature might suggest otherwise – so I know that you won't pose a threat to any of the castle's inhabitants if you seriously want to earn your ultimate freedom. However, the rest of the magical population need to see that you will cause no harm. Therefore, you will receive your meals in the Great Hall like everyone else and attend lessons with Miss Granger. If she needs to study in the library, you will go with her; if she needs to run a meeting with the prefects, you will be there. In short, you will be as visible as possible."

Antonin was appalled and he didn't try to hide his anger from his voice. "You want me to parade around like a beast on a leash," he snarled, "Like a neutered pup!"

McGonagall didn't even blink. "Yes, I'm glad you've caught on straight away."

"No," he said shortly.

" _No?_ " the headmistress repeated. "This isn't a choice, Antonin."

"You don't get to dictate my life," he argued vehemently.

"You are a guest in my castle," she began but he cut her off.

"I'm a _prisoner_!" he corrected.

"Don't split hairs," McGonagall said coolly. "You are answerable to me whilst you reside in this school, Antonin."

"I'm _not_ going to be some spectacle for you to put on show," he fiercely maintained.

"You always were proud," she sighed, and he had a feeling that she was picturing his younger self. "But I'm sure you know what they say about pride and falling; you and everything you held dear have very much fallen. Think of this year as something like a penance for your crimes – providing, of course, that you feel any remorse for your past actions."

Antonin clenched his jaw, not appreciating the way she was speaking down to him. But she was entitled to, really, because as much as he fucking hated it, she was right: the dark _had_ fallen and the light reigned victorious. He had to remember that.

His previous hopes had died with the Dark Lord and they weren't going to be resurrected again. The Dark Lord was gone for good this time and he knew it. It was time for him to come up with new plans for the future – providing he got through the next two years, of course. Suffice to say that when he informed the aurors of his life-debt claim upon his arrest, he hadn't envisioned that the successful outcome would see him stuck in Hogwarts in the company of Potter's self-righteous mudblood. All he'd wanted was to live out the rest of his days in peaceful solitude but he should've known that the fates wouldn't be so kind to him – it wasn't like they'd ever looked on him favourably before.

He still wasn't done arguing his point though and he was prepared to use any angle to get his way. "Seeing me around school is hardly going to have a positive impact on your students," he sneered. "I thought that their welfare was your main priority, Headmistress."

She looked at him coldly but Shacklebolt was the one who actually spoke. "Don't pretend like you actually care about their well-being," he scoffed.

"They're stronger than you think," another voice said behind him and he resisted the urge to look at her. "How else could they have survived the horrors they were exposed to last year? It will be hard for them to see you at first, but hiding you away would only reinforce the idea that they should fear you and all you stood for. In the cold light of day, you will be seen for what you are."

"And what exactly is that?" he asked, a not insignificant level of menace in his voice as he turned to face her.

Granger lifted her chin into the air and looked defiantly at him. "A loser."

The word landed like a blow to his gut.

 _Loser._

A perfect encapsulation.

Part of him wanted to laugh but there was a much stronger urge to rage at her. How could that mudblood dare stand there and pass judgement on him?! Fury seeped through his veins and he fought to keep it from exploding out of him. He knew that Shacklebolt was looking for any excuse to rescind the power of the life debt and Antonin wasn't going to waste his one shot at a life away from Azkaban – anything was better than that hellhole.

A blush spread over Granger's cheeks at the malevolent way that he was staring at her and she shifted her eyes away from him.

"Well, if that brings your objections to a close, I suggest we leave you to it," McGonagall said. "You will find new robes and basic supplies in your bedroom."

The air was suddenly stilted, as though none of them could quite believe that this was actually happening. Antonin's simmering anger at the whole situation needed to find a release soon so he walked towards his bedroom door without a backwards glance.

He felt the previously impassive aurors stir but Shacklebolt murmured for them to stand down.

"Dolohov," the Minister called and Antonin paused at the door. "You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who thinks you deserve this opportunity and yet you have it within your grasp. Don't fuck up."

Antonin wanted to make a biting comment in reply but he thought it was better to say nothing. He was unable to resist shutting the door a little too loudly behind him though.

He enjoyed the sensation of a great weight being lifted off his shoulders at freeing himself from those sanctimonious bastards, but anger bubbled within him. He moved quickly to the bed and saw the excess of pillows, roughly grabbing one and tearing it apart with his bare hands as he muttered darkly about the people on the other side of the door. He was used to sating his anger through magical means; blasting something apart with a violent curse was extremely satisfying and topped only by using your magic directly on the person causing your ire. Unfortunately, using magic to soothe his anger wasn't going to be an option for the next twelve months and he was forced to punch, rip and kick like a fucking savage: like a filthy, common _muggle_.

White, fluffy feathers filled the air as the pillow split apart. He belted the nearest poster of his bed with the torn pillow and the feathers flew everywhere, which turned out to be a bad idea because he nearly swallowed a mouthful of them. Coughing and spluttering, he sank to the floor and put his head in his hands and tried to get a grip on his anger.

 _Loser_.

 _Don't fuck up_.

 _You always were proud._

 _Loser._

His fingernails bit sharply into his scalp as an all-too-familiar sensation of terror and hopelessness swept through him.

"You're not fucking there," he growled to himself, trying to fight off the echoes of over a decade in a living hell. "They're not doing this; you're doing it to yourself, you fucking idiot. _It isn't real._ "

He forced his eyes open in an attempt to show himself that he wasn't back in his cell, and that those hellish creatures weren't coming for him. The floor was covered in a layer of soft white. He reached out for a handful of the feathers, trembling at the way they gently caressed his skin.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breathing still ragged. " _Fuck._ "

This reaction wasn't exactly a new experience because it had happened a few times after both of his previous escapes from Azkaban. The cure wasn't a fancy potion or spell – he just needed a bottle of firewhiskey, though whether he'd be able to get acquire one or not was another matter.

"Elf!" his raspy voice called hopefully. "The Headmistress said I'm a guest in this castle and so you will treat me as such!" he growled with as much authority as he could muster from his slumped position. "Elf!"

There was a loud crack and an anxious house elf appeared before him. "How can I serve this guest of the castle?" it squeaked, inclining its head subserviently.

"A bottle of firewhiskey," he muttered brusquely. "Don't bother with a glass. Go."

The elf returned within a few seconds and Antonin fairly snatched the alcohol away from it. He took a large pull and relished the way it burned down his throat, cleansing him with its fiery relief. He briefly closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with a low moan.

"Does you require anything else, sir?" the elf piped up nervously.

"Just make sure there's a bottle of this in my room every night," he commanded without even bothering to open his eyes. "And this room is always to be well-lit, even at night."

"Yes, sir. Nela will make sure your wishes are carried out, sir," it replied. "Does you wish Nela to clean up the feathers and light a fire, sir?"

Antonin nodded and took another long swig from the bottle. He hissed appreciatively as it went down and he could feel his breathing start to even out. The familiar crackling noise made him open his eyes and he watched the flames as they flickered and danced before him.

"Nela is all finished, sir."

Antonin made a vague, dismissive gesture with his hand and there was another crack, but he kept his gaze on the mesmerising movements of the fire, trying to keep his mind as empty as possible.

The next thing he knew was a loud pounding noise and he jerked awake at once, terrified. When he saw that he was sprawled on the floor of his new room at Hogwarts, he sagged in relief. His stomach and head both complained at him and he repressed a small groan.

The pounding started up again and he realised that someone was knocking on his door. He was very tempted to ignore them but he doubted that would be an option, and he really wanted the loud noises to stop. " _What?_ " he snarled, disliking the taste and texture inside his mouth.

"We're leaving for breakfast in fifteen minutes," Granger's curt voice replied through the shut door. "The bathroom's free if you want to make use of it."

Antonin grunted in response, not particularly bothered whether she heard him or not. His eyelids drooped closed again. He felt like shit. All he wanted was to go back to sleep – preferably for the next few months. If only he could be so lucky…

Now that he was awake, the sunlight from the windows was almost blindingly bright even when his eyes were closed. He sat up with a groan, wiping his hand lethargically over his face to try and chase some of the weariness away.

He hadn't made it to the bed and his muscles were letting him know how unhappy they were about that, even though that was how he'd spent every night in Azkaban – they weren't so bothered with your comfort levels there.

As he unsteadily got to his feet and staggered over to the door, he accidentally kicked the empty firewhiskey bottle and it rolled noisily across the floor.

The face that greeted him in the mirror of the bathroom was unkempt, gaunt, pale and completely unrecognisable from the young man that had graduated from this school so many years before. It was a pitiful sight. He looked every inch the convicted murderer and dark wizard that he was and he had no desire to change that. If McGonagall wanted the students to see him, then see him they fucking would. If they couldn't handle it, maybe he'd get his wish of remaining shut up his room for the rest of the year.

Granger looked surprised and a little revolted when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. Her eyes raked over his dishevelled appearance and her lips pressed together disapprovingly when she saw that he hadn't changed his robes. He was sure she was biting down some sort of comment about his lack of care for his appearance but, after staring for a few seconds, she turned away with her nose in the air and stalked out of their rooms.

Antonin followed grouchily after her, thinking hateful thoughts all the way. She checked over her shoulder a couple of times to make sure he was there but otherwise she didn't acknowledge him in any way, which suited him just fine. It wasn't until they reached the Grand Staircase that they met any other students. A couple of young Ravenclaw students stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of him emerging from the corridor and they watched him pass uneasily. He could feel their stares following him all the way down to the Marble Staircase and this time he could see the portraits as they hurried between frames to whisper to each other. Antonin just kept his malevolent scowl in place, which wasn't hard to do considering his mood and hangover. The students from Hufflepuff and Slytherin that were passing through the Entrance Hall on their way to breakfast also stared. Antonin supposed it was just something he'd have to get used to.

The Great Hall was only about a quarter full when he followed Granger through the large doors but there was a noticeable quieting in the noise level. Granger ignored it all and stalked over to the Gryffindor table to sit with some students who were staring at him hostilely. It was only at that moment that Antonin realised he had to take a seat of his own, but where? Was he supposed to sit by Granger at meal times? He knew he sure as hell wouldn't be welcome at the staff table.

Ignoring the stares tracking his every move, he walked over to Granger, who was probably the only person in the Hall resolutely _not_ looking at him. The Gryffindors watched his approach with various shades of anger and caution.

"I'm _not_ sitting _here,_ " he sneered lowly at Granger, her shoulders tensing at his word.

"Sit where you want, I don't give a damn," she replied tensely, not even sparing him a glance as she buttered some toast.

Well, there was only one place for it. Slytherin had always looked after him when he was a student here and it was the only place he would feel even remotely comfortable sitting at. Even here, the students watched him guardedly but he knew better than to expect a warm welcome because Slytherins were anything but stupid – there would be students in his old house that still shared similar beliefs about the Dark Lord and blood supremacy to him, but they wouldn't be foolish enough to show that under this new administration. He chose to sit at a part of the table that was devoid of any students and immediately reached for a mug to pour himself some coffee.

Conversation gradually started up again but Antonin just focused on the black liquid in front of him as it slowly began to sweep away the aftereffects of his night's drinking. After a few minutes, his

stomach felt settled enough to have some solid food and he helped himself to some bacon, noticing that the Great Hall was starting to fill up.

The post owls arrived soon afterwards and he watched them disinterestedly as he finished off his breakfast. But then he noticed just how many had landed on the Gryffindor table or, more accurately, by Granger. It was only as a magically-magnified voice started bellowing that he realised why she had received so much post.

" – UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL OF YOU TO DEFEND SUCH A DESPICABLE – "

More voices joined the maelstrom, making the words difficult to discern, which was probably for the best, but he couldn't help hearing a few snatches.

" – HORRIFIED BY YOUR ACTIONS – "

" – THOSE POOR STUDENTS – "

" – ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, YOU WICKED GIRL – "

Antonin was mildly surprised that there wasn't a greater reaction from the rest of the students and he realised that this wasn't the first time this had happened. One of Granger's Gryffindor friends stood up with fistfuls of howlers in his hands and walked over to chuck them in the fire. There was a horrendous screeching noise as the letters were consumed by the flames and then an eerie silence descended upon the Hall.

Granger was trying to pretend like nothing had happened but Antonin could see how stiff her posture was as she stared down at her breakfast. Antonin honestly couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck. If he was suffering then it made him feel slightly better that she was too.

It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. We couldn't just have Antonin locked away somewhere - what would be the fun in that?!

Let me know what you think!

Red


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